My Salvation
by Jaden Anderson
Summary: Fettered his entire life, she'd been the key to his salvation. "I would not have you abandon me," he continued. "I did not think that needed saying." It had come to the final battle, to save Kirkwall, and it did not go as intended. Warning: Character Death.


_A/N: Yet again, in a tragic mood haha. I know I have two others; one that is so close to being finished, but sometimes these thoughts just don't let up until you get them on paper haha. At least this is a one-shot and done :D_

_**Warning**: Character Death  
_

* * *

Ten years...

Never did he think he'd be standing here of all places, a free man - a free _elf_. And it was all because of her. He once thought he'd be by her side for whatever their lives might bring, and he'd welcomed that thought. Fettered his entire life, she'd been the key to his salvation.

He broke at the waist, clawed fingers sifting through the rubble they still hadn't sorted through, snatching up a gnarled imitation of a half-burned candle. She wasn't here, he was aware of that. But this - this was what had started it all, so it was appropriate that his feet carry him here. He should have _killed _that abomination when he had the chance, but she had stayed his hand, softly speaking words of compassion and life.

Ten years...

-.-

Her face, twisted in horror and disbelief, turned up toward the blushing sky, painted in thick brushstrokes of rosy pinks and peels of orange. But it wasn't the canvas she was staring at. Neither was anyone else for that matter. It was the Chantry that stole their attentions, rising in the sunset like a prayer, and from it an unnatural light pierced through the stone ceiling, drawn up into the overhanging clouds by some unknown magic.

A blinding light consumed the entire building in a furious red glow that coalesced over the walls before throwing its arms open to the rest of Kirkwall. And from within, a chorus of cries pierced the former quiet; hundreds of denizens, dozens of brothers and sisters, a handful of mothers, one revered. All of them, shouting, and the sound carried down the paths of Hightown.

He tore his eyes away from the offensive sight and cast a heavy scowl toward the aberrant mage, standing his ground between the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander. His lips were still moving but the tone indiscernible. And with every other word, the butt of his staff slammed into the ground, energy pulsing from him with every strike.

The cobbled roads beneath their feet swayed under some unseen force and Hawke slammed into his shoulder, feet nearly pulled out from beneath her. His weight shifted to balance them both, but at that moment, the air thickened with warmth and power and Fenris' tattoos ignited.

Not a second was wasted before he reacted. From his fingers, his blade fell and he spun, arms latching around her waist and whipping her around, his body curving protectively over hers.

The world exploded in a wash of heat and magic. Like oceans of liquid rock, the ground swayed and they spilled as one, his hands barely managing to cushion their fall. He was aware of everything - the soft sound of her lips shaping his name, the torrent of rubble and boulders raining down from the now crimson sky, the shrieks and gasps of those around him, but mostly, her eyes. There wasn't anything special about them, but at that moment they were the one thing he clung to. How had he never noticed the snow white flecks within those sapphire depths? Or how they illuminated with the fade when she was frightened? These things came to him now as they stared into each other, powerless to do anything but wait for the world to settle.

Her fingers clutched at his arm, trembling in a fine line, and her stuttered breath grazed over his chin in a perfumed air. Those eyes widened, terror sliding in place as she stared over his shoulder. He was about to shift, to protect them both when her teeth set into her lip and magic flowed over them.

It felt like fingernails dragging over his skin, enflaming his tattoos. The ethereal light cast over her, coloring her skin alabaster. She shook against him, eyes screwed with effort. He didn't want to break contact with her - her armor consisted of robes, it wasn't enough - but he had to look.

His chin shifted over his shoulder and his face fell slack at the sight of a shimmering barrier cast over them. Rubble and boulders rained down on them in a blanket of debris that robbed from them any light, and it was only this shield that kept them safe from the assault.

"Fenris," she choked on his name and he spun back to her, noting the beaded sheen of sweat dotting her brow, and the stain of blood on her lips from her teeth.

She gasped, her magic strengthening for a moment. Even he felt the impact of that one and he jerked, his gaze tracking the path of a boulder twice the size of him as it refracted off the shield. His armor was strong, but nothing would have protected him from _that_.

"I can't - I can't -" her voice dragged him back around, strands of ivory hair brushing against his eyes when he bowed his head toward her.

The strain of effort was painful to watch. He'd never seen her suffer under her magic but never before had she needed to protect them from such a thing. The world around them was lit with flame and choked with dust. All around them, people dove in any possible direction, seeking a safe spot to wait out the storm. Movement dragged his gaze away from her to find it wasn't only them she was protecting, but all her companions. They all stood in shock, peering out through the same glittering film as debris veered away from them. It stole his breath, the strength she wielded - waning as it was. It used to frighten him, but if there was any mage in this world he could trust, it was her. And it was only with that thought that he found the courage to offer her something he never had before.

His fingers slid through hers and he lifted her twined hand to his neck, slapping it against his throat. "Take it," he growled, peering down into her face. In that moment, he needed to memorize her face - needed to _know_, if this was something she'd longed to do.

Her breath caught, her pinched eyes flying wide. "Fenris," she gasped. "No..."

The barrier was wavering, he could feel the heat of the air pressing against the back of his neck once more and dust sprinkled down over her face. Her lips twisted and he felt another surge of magic sweep over them, chased after by a fatigued cry.

"_Take it!" _he didn't mean to shout at her, but fear made fools of many. Never had he offered such a thing, though he knew many a mage would die to wield the power flowing under his skin, through his veins.

"Fenris," she panted. "I can't... I-"

He wasn't the only frightened one. The debris continued to fall around them, with no end in sight. The sounds of those crying around them were pitiable.

"_Hawke-_"

"Fenris, you _know_ what this will do to you, to _me_ -" but her fingers clenched around his neck, curling over the ivory bands stretching over his throat. She stared up at him, her jaw clenched tightly as she struggled to loose another wave of magic.

He pressed his fingers atop hers, kneading them against his throat. It wasn't that he _wanted_ her to take the lyrium, he was well versed enough in the repercussions for them both. But there was little other choice. Her barrier was fracturing, he could _feel_ it. And should it shatter, the world was about to reign down on them. His armor would not survive the first wave.

"Marian," he said, a crooked tug of his lips when she stilled beneath him at the sound of her given name. "I trust you." Never had such words graced his lips. But it was the truth. She had done so much for him, helped him in so many facets. Danarius might have been his master, but she was his _life_.

They were spared no time to enjoy the revelation. Her fingers contracted around the long lines of stretched lyrium and she _pulled_. His heart beat like a drum, hammering against his chest as though it meant to burst free of his armor. He waited for the impending pain, the bone shattering agony that would lance through him like a spear. He remembered the torment as though it was yesterday - the feel of Danarius' touch, draining him in waves of scalding misery, the lyrium pulsing through him to the winged beat of his _master's _heart, locking his arms at his side so he could not struggle, the tight press of his jaw as he struggled beneath screaming. Its absence was startling and his bewildered gaze dropped down on her.

A shadow of melancholy darkened her face. Her lips writhed in their tight press and her eyes screwed shut as her skin grew flush with the sterling glow of his lyrium. For a moment, he was startled at the sight of her, radiant with _his_ power.

"Hawke..." he whispered.

Her eyes flew open and rolled up to him. A startled breath slipped past his lips at the sight of a silvered rim swelling within those dazzling depths until they were entirely consumed by the breath of the fade. She held his gaze for a mere moment before her back arched off the quivering ground, fingers gripping at his arms as her head fell back.

"Hawke!" he grunted.

Magic erupted around them in vaporous colors. He could _feel_ it washing over him and strengthening the barrier above until the world fell away from them. Hidden within the bubble, all sound dissolved until all he could hear was the hurried rush of her breath, spilling from her lips as quickly as his heart beat.

He gathered her into his arms, shifting their position until she lay draped in his lap. Her skin was clammy but it mattered little - his clawed fingers simply swiped at the sweat beading against her brow. He couldn't believe what she'd just done. He'd never thought it possible to draw on his lyrium without pain. Danarius had always ensured it would hurt, always left him as little more than a shuddering heap on the floor. But this... had almost felt erotic, like fingers ghosting over his skin followed by the brush of her lips. Slowly, her breathing evened and she cracked her lids, staring up at him with a weak smile. Sky-eyed, he felt like he could _actually_ see the Maker Sebastian preached about so devoutly shining within.

"Are you alright?" she whispered as she dragged her knuckles over his tight jaw.

Was _he_ alright? She sagged against him, clearly exhausted and weak from expending that much magic, and she asked if _he _was alright. He might laugh, if it weren't for the situation unfolding around them.

"I believe that should be my line," he said, reaching for a little humor. The attempt did not go unnoticed if the small flick of her lips was evident of anything. "How did you do it?" he whispered, afraid to lift his voice.

Her face twisted and she pushed feebly off his legs. "A mage can do anything they desire, Fenris," she murmured, repeating words she'd said to him many times before. "We shape the world around us. If I do not want to cause you pain, I don't."

His bared his teeth - not at her, but at Danarius, and Hadriana, and every other mage that had ever tormented him. He swallowed his biting words - now certainly was not the time - and followed her gaze.

The world had quieted. Fire and ash still rained from the sky, but it seemed the torrent of debris had ceased. Kirkwall was the epitome of a battlefield; bodies strewn within the streets, blood smeared across the stone, weapons abandoned, dented and cleaved armor, and an unearthly silence.

Their companions all stood around them, protected by Hawke's will, eyes wide as they stared after her. She lifted her hand and dragged her fingers across the shield, watching as the barrier rippled and conformed to her touch.

"It feels like you," she whispered, peeking back over her shoulder. Shadows darkened the underside of her eyes, lips pinched with exhaustion. He found himself stepping closer, arms tensed should the need arise to catch her. He'd seen her like this once before, after battling the Arishok and it had taken her days to recover. She was drained, even after all she'd borrowed from him. The barriers surrounding all their companions had been taxing, he could see it in her stiff movements. And he had nothing more to give. It would be hours, if not more, before he began to feel the trickle of lyrium fill his veins again.

"And... what do I feel like?" he dared to ask, his voice gruff with a hint of a growl dangling on his words. How she continued to astound him. Upon coming to Kirkwall, he'd never thought he'd meet someone like her. She deserved someone better, she was a noble after all. Yet she chose to attach herself to an escaped slave, an elf that could hardly remember his past, and knew even less of his future.

Her shoulders lifted in a sluggish shrug. "Like Fenris," was all she said before absorbing the barrier back into herself. He hoped it would replenish the energy spent, but when she turned to greet their companions, she appeared even more waxen and tired.

As one, they all turned to the center, where Meredith and Orsino crept from the protective niches they'd found in time. They were among the few, but enough templars remained that he felt the situation could be put back into their hands. And in the center of the square, stood the abomination, furiously lit with that beryl haze that spoke of which monster was in control.

The mage - _Anders_ - spun, his staff smooth and pallid with the strength of the fade. His voided eyes whipped around the small semi-circle forming around him, a single hand outstretched between them with viridian fire climbing over his fingers. Should Hawke order it, Fenris would stalk across the front and drive his blade through the man's chest. He would have _preferred_ to rip out the tainted heart, but that was not an option, not until his power returned. He looked the embodiment of Danarius and Hadriana in that moment, alight with power that did _not_ belong to him, after slaughtering countless innocents. Fenris drew his lips back, nose wrinkling with disgust.

Hawke's fingers slid over his arm and he tore his eyes away from the abomination. She watched him so closely, her countenance shadowing with morose thoughts.

"Forgive me," she whispered.

He startled, watching silently as she lifted their twined hands to her mouth and brushed a gentle kiss over the tips of his fingers. Before his hand even fell back to his side, she'd stepped away from him and crossed the distance, dust gathering around her robe like snow.

He couldn't hear what Hawke was saying; she kept her tone low and her gaze locked with the mage's. Something passed between them, something unspoken, and the light dissolved until only a slack-jawed man stood repentantly before her.

Scalding words expelled from the Knight-Commander's lips, accusations that were not entirely inappropriate. A mage was the cause of... _this_. Specifically the one now stalking over to a pile of crates and collapsing atop, his head cupped in his cracked hands.

His Hawke turned and moved toward the Knight-Commander. Fenris' composure nearly broke right there and it was only Aveline's hand that paused him in his attempt to cross to her. The Guard-Captain shook her head, flicking a terse glance up at him before drawing him back. He should let Hawke handle it, but the woman's tone was crazed and he found himself fearing her malice would be taken out on Hawke.

At this distance, he could make out some of what was said and his shoulders tensed when five words fell from Hawke's lips: _I stand with the mages_.

"Hawke," he started, his words falling silent on his lips when she turned with a desolate look stealing the typical light from her face.

She could not be serious. After all they'd witnessed in this city, the overgrown numbers of blood mages, all guilelessly slaughtering innocents - one of which was her mother! A mage had just destroyed the Chantry and nearly killed them in the process, and she intended to... stand with them?

Meredith swept away, ordering her men to the Gallows where she intended to invoke the Right of Annulment. Usually, he would find pleasure in this, but he couldn't turn away from Hawke, not as she made her way to the mage. Fenris wanted to tear after her, bury the blade deep into the man's back and be done with it. Hawke would not see it _his_ way, though. Once again he couldn't hear their words, but eventually the mage rose and dared to stare into her eyes before cupping her cheek. Fenris choked on the sudden swell of his silent fury. Had he the energy, his skin would be flush with liquid fire and he would descend upon the man like a lambent ghost. All for naught, however, once the mage stole a step away from her, and another, before turning and bolting. How Fenris longed to take chase and remove the world of another abomination, but at that moment, Hawke rounded. She walked toward him so slowly, afraid to even _look _at him; it set his back up to see her so meek.

"What are you _doing_?" he demanded in a heated growl.

Her shoulders shifted with a sigh and she finally lifted her eyes. "I do not condone what he did, Fenris, but I cannot stand by and allow the templars to annul the entire circle for one mage's actions."

Fenris' head whipped around to find the abomination long gone. "You _let_ him go! He is the cause of all this and you granted him leave!"

"It is not my place to decide who lives and who dies -"

"You've been doing exactly that for _six years_!" he snarled, his feet entangling within the rubble as he began to pace before her. "You simply hide behind your Maker because you would not kill another _mage._"

Her gaze dropped, fixating on the hem of her robes. "I would not kill a _friend_," she corrected him in the softest voice. It brought his stride to a halt and he pivoted on his heel.

"A friend! That... _monster_ just murdered countless people and you let him walk away!"

She nodded, accepting the brunt of his anger. Her next words doused his internal rage as aptly as water. "Perhaps you could kill someone you care about, but I cannot."

His mouth worked soundlessly, clawed fingers swiping at his dusty brow. _Loyalty_, it was one of the first things that had attracted him to her. He'd witnessed the fervor in which she protected all those that came to her. She'd stood between the entire qunari army and Isabela, refusing to hand the pirate over even though she'd _deserved_ it, and even submitted herself to a duel between the military leader and herself. She'd stood between the entire Dalish clan and Merrill even though the blood mage had brought their rage down on herself. She'd stood between Danarius' army and him, even though it would have been simpler to just hand him over to his previous master. And now she was standing between all of Kirkwall and Anders. His head hung low and he rubbed at his eyes. The things she did... she always managed to drag him into the strangest situations and he was sure there would be more to come.

"I-I," her voice cracked. "I will understand if you cannot stand at my side."

Her words were so quiet, he nearly missed them. His chin jerked up and he met her watery gaze, his stomach twisting at the sight of the shimmering tears swimming in her eyes. She would not force him. Yet, she _was_... simply by being Hawke.

He stepped flush to her, his spiked gauntlets threading through her loose hair, thick with ash and dust. "I would not abandon you," he whispered. "Promise me you won't die. I can't bear the thought of living without you."

For the barest of moments, the shadows vanished in the wake of her smile; so radiant, so beautiful. "I have no intention of dying today," she told him with a nod.

He guided her toward him and lay his brow upon hers, eyes fluttering shut when her scent sank into his lungs. "You _better_ not," he growled before snagging her mouth in a searing kiss. A fine layer of cinder covered her lips but he ignored the gritty feel and sank into her, tasting deeply of her.

He broke from the kiss, finding pleasure at the sight of her blushed cheeks, but it did nothing to hide the deepened shadows spreading under her eyes. And when she reached to loosen her staff from her back, he caught the tremble to her fingers. She was not well. Whatever energy she had spent erecting those barriers was affecting her.

"Hawke," he growled. "You require lyrium." This was not something he would typically offer but she was in desperate need of it, if they were to take on the templars.

"Hopefully, we'll find some along the way," she promised, her hand twining with his once more before she directed their group down the stairs toward the docks. Meredith was heading toward the Gallows and if she intended to stand with the mages, that was where they needed to be.

The path was much more difficult than any of them would have thought possible. Every corner they turned, countless templars and blood mages descended upon them. It seemed they did not care that Hawke was standing with them, they were razing everything in sight.

They were running and he was keeping an ear on her labored breathing when they took the next corner. He was quick to follow her, always nearby, when she leapt back. It was only the fluid press of his arms that kept her from falling. He followed her gaze, his mouth parting with shock at the sight of the demon rising before them.

She gave his hand a firm squeeze before stepping forward, her staff held loosely between her fingers. The group held at her back, following her into battle. Fear swelled over Fenris' tongue; they'd faced such a beast twice before and it was never simple. This one didn't even bother to speak, it simply drew its hands up to its chest and attacked.

Fenris leapt into action, shunting Hawke out of the way with the hope of preserving her strength. Each of their companions dove into the fray, weapons drawn as they struck again and again. With so many of them there, it should have been an easy battle, but slowly, more demons began to rise from the ground in a battalion larger than Fenris had ever seen. And if that wasn't enough, templars were marching in the backdrop, their ranks closing in on them.

The pride demon was the first to fall and Fenris breathed a sigh of relief. Their companions were scattered about the area, each dealing with the mixed concoctions of rage and desire demons. The templars, for the moment, were focused on the demons as well. He dared to cast a quick glance, finding Hawke against the wall, casting whatever spells she could to assist them. Content with her position, he rejoined the fray, helping Varric with a group of shades.

Lost to the battle and the roaring cries of the demons, he didn't hear Hawke's shout. He didn't even realize something was wrong. Not until Varric gasped and lifted Bianca.

At first, Fenris didn't understand what happened. He whirled around, expecting to find another demon descending on him; not the armored templar that bore down instead. He noted a quick flash of silver in the form of a longsword closing in on him. Instead, a dark husk of a woman darted between him and the templar, passing into the shadows like a phantom.

His brow furrowed as he peered down at the familiar face staring up at him, still unable to fathom what had happened. It was Hawke, he knew her as any lover would. His eyes dropped, hovering on the length of steel buried through her back and protruding from her chest.

He'd seen many different swords pitted through many different chests. _Venhedis,_ he'd been the cause of such a thing more than once. But he'd never noticed before how utterly white they go when impaled.

A second apparition appeared behind the templar but from the familiar blade biting into his neck, he knew it to be Isabela, which was for the best because Fenris wouldn't even know how fight at that moment.

"Hawke," he whispered, unable to raise his voice.

Her lips pressed together in pain and she stumbled into his chest. His reaction was remiss; the thought to catch her didn't even register in his mind.

One moment Hawke was standing before him, the next - not.

Voices... so many voices, all shouting at him and at each other. And he simply stood there, blind to all that was happening. He couldn't comprehend it all. Where had the templar come from? And how had Hawke crossed the void between them so quickly? She'd been standing against the wall, safe, out of harm's way, protected...

"Fenris!"

He swallowed back the panic rushing to the surface and dropped his eyes to the dwarf perched before him, screaming angry words and waving a fist in his face. Reality returned to him in an astounding flash as Hawke crumpled to her knees. The ground rose to meet him as he followed, arms finally circling around her waist to support her. The battle continued to rage behind them but there was a hysteria in the air now as everyone began bellowing at each other. Fenris was deaf to it all; all he could hear was her ragged breath and pained gasps.

Isabela whipped around them, her blades parrying the strikes that still bore down on them. Part of him recognized the danger of them huddling in the bloodied streets but he couldn't move her, and wouldn't now, even though his life depended on it. He had to trust that their companions would keep them safe as he fixed this mistake.

"Varric," he said in a dead voice. "We must remove the blade so she can heal herself." He couldn't let the fear overcome him. Hawke would not die from this. She was a mage, mages heal, though he couldn't recall a single moment where she ever had.

Bianca clattered to the ground, forgotten the moment Varric positioned himself behind her.

"Careful, be careful-" a second voice but Fenris couldn't place it until a flash of strawberry hair appeared behind them.

He listened for the sounds of battle to find silence had settled over the street. They'd won - or... perhaps _would_ have.

"Wait!" Varric shouted.

"Do it! Get it out of her!"

Their crazed words sparked the terror within him. Why were they so scared? This was nothing, a scratch. They'd remove the blade and she'd be fine... _she'd be fine_.

He shifted her against him and met her eyes finally. She stared up at him, only she wasn't staring _at_ him, but through him. Something cracked within his chest and he found his hand cupping her cheek.

"Stay with me, Hawke. Remember your promise," his words were so dark, hovering on the brink of a chasm he dared not fall into.

She shivered and her lips moved but no sound came out. His hands trailed her back and he startled when they came away hot and wet. He lifted one hand to the fading sun, blinking at the offensive sight of her _blood_ staining his hands.

The sword detracted so smoothly from the ribboned mess of her chest. His only thought was she should be in armor - it would have prevented such a thing. The smallest gasp fell from her lips, but with the blade removed he lowered her down into his lap.

His mouth went dry at how easily she conformed to him, how limp she'd grown, how pliable. Her head tucked into his chest and she stared ahead, out to the rippling water just beyond the docks.

"Anders," he managed to croak. "Get Anders!"

"He isn't here, Fenris!" he was sure it was Aveline that said that.

"Hawke, stay with me. Heal yourself -" he rambled, unable to think clearly.

Somehow, she managed to lift her hand from her side and only the faintest spark lit between her fingers. "Nothing - left," she said between breaths.

For the second time that night, he offered his lyrium up, except... he didn't have any left either. He shook, the cold realization sinking in; she'd run to him because she had no energy left. She'd drained herself to the last drop. They needed health poultices, lyrium potions, anything, but as he cast a despairing glance around the street - there was nothing.

"Stay awake, Hawke," Merrill crooned at her side. "You don't want to sleep right now."

Hawke's eyes lifted to his and he took note once more how she looked _through_ him.

"You _promised_!" he snarled, his teeth bared at her. Fear fueled his rage and he found his entire body vibrating beneath it.

The smallest waver of breath fell past her lips. "I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize!" he barked. "Just stay with me."

"Keep talking to her," someone suggested. "Until we can figure something out."

His lip trembled, he couldn't remember the last time it ever did that. His chin dipped, hair sliding forward in a curtain, severing them from the others until it was only them. "I will not abandon you."

Her lids softly closed and he did the same, a final attempt to block out the sight he could feel coming. He couldn't face such a thing. For one so strong, so resilient - for a _warrior_ - her impending death made him feel weak.

"I would not have _you_ abandon _me_," he continued. "I did not think that needed saying."

"Sorry," her voice was so quiet, he had to strain to hear her.

He heard someone gasp and another start to cry.

"Hawke?" he called her name again.

Silence.

-.-

Many times since then he'd called her name, shouted it, cursed it, all to no avail. There was no soft sigh as she bore his complaints, no smile as he spoke with her, no tears when his finally _did_ come.

Ten years... and she still clutched at him so tightly, even in her absence.

"I wondered if you'd be here," a deep voice, one he hadn't heard in a decade, rose behind him.

Rage rose to the surface and his markings lit with white fire. A tuneless snarl ripped free of his throat and he spun, his ephemeral fist plunging into the chest of the man behind him.

A choking gasp fell from Anders' lips and he broke at the waist, his fingers clawing at the spiked armor Fenris' wore to this day. He longed for nothing more than to rip the still-beating heart from the abomination's chest - in fact, he'd dreamed of nothing else in that stretch of time. His hand tightened around it and the mage cried out.

It was the lack of cracking skin and glow of the fade that forced him to relinquish his hold. His pulled his hand free of Anders' chest, watching as he staggered back, his body contorting beneath the strength of a racking cough.

"Where is your demon?" Fenris growled, pacing the length of rubble.

"Gone," the mage squeezed out.

He bared his teeth, his markings lighting up once more as he stalked forward. He would have liked to kill them _both_ as he held them equally to blame. But the mage would have to do.

"Wait!" Anders gasped, staggering back with his hands held out to ward off the attack. "I came to apologize."

"_Apologize!_" he howled. "You think you can approach me with your worthless explanations and hope for atonement! She _died_ because of you!"

"I know," he whispered, finally turning his face up to him. The decade had not been kind to him. Permanent lines were inscribed into his flesh and a hideous scar spired down his brow and over his nose. Whatever events occurred in his time spent away from them all, it did not look at though it had been for the better. "And I know there is nothing I can say to make that better." He straightened and tugged down on his robes, his tawny eyes flashing defensively. "But you weren't the only one that loved -"

Pure fury slipped down Fenris' throat and before he could choke on it, he lunged forward and his smoldering gauntlet ensnared the mage's throat, heaving him into the air. He waited for his magic to ignite, for his own attack, but it never came.

Realization dawned on him and grunting under his breath, he released him and watched as Anders dropped to the ground, choking on his air again.

"I _should_ kill you," Fenris snarled. "Is that why you've come? To have me deliver you from your pitiful life?"

He was met with silence. How familiar he'd become with it, his one constant companion now.

The mage was no friend of his, but he remembered Hawke's words the first time they'd met the abomination, cautioning him to find patience, to not let his hate overrun him. Danarius would forever have a hold on him if he allowed the rage to rule him.

Fenris turned back to the rubble and forced his shoulders to round. His thoughts were of Hawke, but his words were for Anders.

"I will not grant you the oblivion you seek, mage. Suffer in silence."

And with a final baleful glare cast down on the mage, who slumped in the debris of the Chantry, Fenris stalked off.

_Like the rest of us_.


End file.
